Speakeasy 143 – Is He In Time?

The instructions for Speakeasy 143:

This week’ sentence prompt, provided by last week’s winner, must be used as the FIRST line in your piece. And the media prompt is a photo, which you will find below. As with all our media prompts, your post shouldn’t be about the photo, but you must make some sort of reference to it in your submission.

My story is the continuation of last week’s, in which a quantum mechanics scientist has figured out the particulars of time travel so he can return to September 3, 1940 and save his beloved fiance Millicent from the German fighter plane that took her life. If you did not read that installment last week, you can catch up here: Saving Millicent?

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There was a loud crash in the hallway. Dwight Framingham frantically scrambled past the stack of debris created when he collided with a stack of books. Camille had told him if he left her for this foolish mission he should never come back. He had hesitated for a few moments before remembering a critical piece of information. His latest collection of bomb data proved an earlier source inaccurate that Horace Blakely depended on for his final coordinates. If the elderly man stayed there he would not survive to attempt his last ditch rescue.

When he burst into the research suite he saw only two people remaining. One was Stanley Brahm, a nerdy looking bloke from the school of engineering nearby and Amanda Stokes, the raven haired beauty Camille had chafed over when she was handpicked by Blakely as an assistant. Dwight had to be honest, there had been sparks between them on brief occasions. He had not sought the attention of this brilliant young woman, but their shared intellect drew them together.

“Amanda, where is Blakely?” Dwight asked.

“They are in 1940 London I suppose,” Amanda smiled and cocked her head.

“Does the other prototype work?”

“Why?”

“Blakely’s data is wrong. This,” he said proffering the new papers, “shows he will die from a direct bomb hit if he sets up where we discussed last evening. I have to go and tell him.”

“You’ll need another to get there,” Amanda said, looking at him with anticipation.

Dwight looked at Stanley, who stared silently at him as he realized the implications. In one swift movement he jumped up from his chair and fled the room. Amanda turned slowly to find Dwight’s eyes lock on hers.

“Right, well I suppose you are the best woman for the job,” Dwight said.

Amanda’s face broke into a broad grin. She was ready for this.

“So, where do we go to miss the bombs?”

“Well I know this beautiful pond north of the city . . .,” Dwight smiled. “Sorry, a joke. We must arrive at the eastern end of Trussley Road. But we must get off the street immediately when we arrive.”

“Will we get there in time?”

“Let’s hope so,” Dwight replied.

Seconds later they came to a rest on a cobblestone section of street that was remarkably clear. Dwight immediately exited their traveling machine and searched for some sign of their location. Amanda looked around too, knowing the urgency of the moment.

“There,” Amanda pointed at an ivy covered pole. Trussley.”

Dwight spread a period map over the back of a bench to find the street he and Horace Blakely agreed the night before was the best choice to try to intercept Millicent in time to prevent her slaughter. He rapidly scanned the map looking for the street name.

“Adie Road, Adie Road. Where the hell is Adie Road?” he asked no one in particular.

Amanda moved close to his side and ran her perfectly manicured fingers over the map, her bright red nail polish temporarily capturing his attention. He shook his head to clear the distraction as he kept searching frantically for the vital street location.

“Here!” he said when it finally showed up to the west.

“That’s three blocks,” Amanda said. “How much time?”

“Less than ten minutes, come on.” He took off in a run toward the direction he got from the map, with her close behind. Citizens of the city watched with amazement as the two strangers weaved their way through the streets on their way to some important destination. As he ran Dwight thought about all the death that was coming. Should he try to warn people? Would they heed the warning? How could he explain what he knew in time to help them and Horace?

He saw the last street before the intersection that would lead to Adie Road and felt a surge of optimism. The surge dissipated quickly when he recognized what had always been an antique report of an air raid warning siren. But this was no re-enacted scene. They were in 1940s London and thousands of people would be killed and wounded on this day. They did not want to be in that number.

There was a crush of people going in all directions when Dwight and Amanda finally reached Adie Road. Dwight tried to peer over the scrambling crowd for a sing of his mentor, but there was just so many people. Then he heard the rumble of aircraft and knew his time was short.

“We’ll never make it Dwight!” 

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 Check it out here:Speakeasy #143